


feels like falling

by delusionalwithlove



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 16:05:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delusionalwithlove/pseuds/delusionalwithlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been two months, give or take, since the dust officially settled. Two months since Cora fell into Scott's orbit somehow, and didn't even know how hard she was falling until right now.</p><p>[ Drabble based on a 'kiss in the rain' prompt. ]</p>
            </blockquote>





	feels like falling

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a tumblr meme, based on the prompt "Scott/Cora, a kiss in the rain."

Despite her sharp intuitive skill and carefully-honed instincts, born from years spent looking over her shoulder for a threat that never quite materialized, Cora can be so fucking short-sighted sometimes that it blows her mind.  
  
It’s been two months, give or take, since the dust officially settled. Two months since she became a part of Scott’s pack, so subtly and so wholly that she barely even realized it was happening until it just  _was_ ; since Derek reluctantly followed, and they all settled into a strange but peaceful symbiosis; since she fell into Scott’s orbit somehow, and didn’t even know how hard she was falling until right now.  
  
Scott is walking Cora home from Deaton’s clinic, the way he does every day that they work a shift together, even though his house is in the opposite direction and it’ll take him twice as long to get home. The first time he did it, Cora almost tried to ditch him just to save her pride, but now it’s possibly her favorite part of the job, these walks, the conversations they have. The time alone together that they so rarely get among such a large pack.  
  
Neither of them smell the rain on the air, or notice the faint rumblings of thunder in the distance. They’re embroiled in a mockingly (mostly) bitter fight over who would win in a battle between their favorite superheroes. Cora is in the middle of telling him that  _Batman would eat shit if he ever came up against the Black Canary_  when there’s a sudden, resounding noise directly above them, like the sky splitting open— and then it’s pouring.  
  
Stupidly, they start to run. Scott is wheeling his bike alongside him; they’ve used it on occasion, but they usually end up walking, Scott’s helmet clutched under one arm as he steers with the other. She hadn’t realized the significance until she asked him one day why they didn’t just drive it, and he’d answered, ‘it’s really hard to have a conversation over the loud-ass motor, and anyway, I’m not in a hurry.’ Her stomach had turned over in an unsettling manner, and she had changed the subject without really knowing why.  
  
So Scott is running and practically dragging the bike along with him, and he looks like an idiot, and they’re both probably idiots because neither of them have stopped to think that maybe this would be the time to actually utilize it, and before she knows it, Cora is laughing so hard that tears threaten to mingle with the rain on her face.   
  
Scott starts laughing too, maybe at her, or maybe he’s just realized how fucking ridiculous they must look, and by the time they find anything resembling an adequate shelter from the downpour, they’re soaked to the bone. Scott pulls the bike in with them to sit under the protective overhang of the bus shelter, and they huddle there for a moment, shivering in their wet clothes. Neither of them think about it; instinctively, Scott lifts up an arm and Cora moves to tuck herself underneath it, until they’re pressed flush against each others’ sides, and the shivering abates just enough to make it bearable.  
  
"I bet you regret not taking the stupid bike now," she says, still laughing, and without missing a beat he says, "Not even a little bit." Cora looks up and meets his gaze, expecting to find him laughing, and instead he has an expression she’s never seen on his face before; it’s two parts earnest, and one part absolute terror, and when she realizes how close her face is to his, she starts to feel exactly like he looks. Her stomach does the stupid twisting thing again, but it doesn’t feel bad, just— weird. Sort of fluttery, and more than a little nerve-wracking.   
  
And suddenly, it hits her. This is the moment that Cora finally breaks the sound barrier, and realizes that she’s in freefall.  _Shit. Oh, shit. I **like**  him._  
  
The fact that it hasn’t occurred to her before now is just too goddamned stupid to even comprehend, and Cora is torn between putting her fist through the glass wall of the bus shelter and— and—   
  
She leans up and closes the distance between them before she can second-guess herself. Scott’s mouth tastes like the rain, like the clean, soft scent of it on the air, like warm, wet skin and the memory of the tea that Deaton shared with them (‘to ward off the chill in the air’). For a second, he doesn’t respond, and Cora shifts to move away so she can turn and put her fist through the glass as planned, because fuck, this was so  _stupid_ — but he uses his arm around her shoulders to reel her back in, and the insistent press of his lips to hers is enough to shake the cold right out of her bones.  
  
The rain finally lets up after a while, and by the time they finally come up for air, it’s dialed back to a steady mist. It settles over Cora’s hair like a fine veil and gets caught in her eyelashes, breaking her vision into shimmering points of light until she blinks it away. They’re soaked again by the time they make it to the loft, the bike dutifully rolling beside them, helmet balanced on the seat so Scott can twine their hands together when Cora isn’t looking.   
  
They’re back to their previous argument, having picked up right where they left off, and Cora is interrupted yet again in her seven-part oration on why Batman is super lame, but this time she doesn’t mind nearly as much because Scott’s lips taste like rain.


End file.
